


without apology

by humanveil



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Love/Hate, M/M, Power Dynamics, TLJ Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Two fingers ghost across Hux’s cheek; gloved, featherlight, the leather barely touching. Kylo trails them over the bone, down the jaw. Moves to clutch his chin, tilt his head back. When he speaks, he says only one word:“Beg.”





	without apology

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the line _“Tell me, General. Will you beg?”_ in [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13058292), only it wasn’t sexual, but it’s been like five days and I haven’t been able to get rid of the thought, so I wrote this. Enjoy!

_let’s admit, without apology,_  
_what we do to[each other.](http://psychologytomorrowmagazine.com/richard-siken/)_

 

 

He feels it as Hux enters his chambers; the flicker of want, desire, hope. It simmers beneath the surface, close enough that Kylo doesn’t have to reach for it. It’s just there. Indisputable. Certain.

How interesting, Kylo thinks. How surprising. Even now, after everything, after all they’ve put each other through…

He supposes he should have seen this coming.

“Supreme Leader.”

It’s Hux’s voice; low, bordering on irritated. He’s looking at Kylo expectantly, the requested report held in hand, outstretched for Kylo to take. There is a furrow to his brow, Kylo notes. Slight, but visible.

He reaches forward, takes the report, drops it to his desk without looking at the contents. His attention is focused solely on Hux, his gaze trailing over the familiar figure. He looks tired, Kylo thinks. Looks like his body is thrumming with anticipation.

“Even now,” Kylo says, whispers. There is wonder in his voice. Marvel. Disbelief that Hux is yet to let go of this _thing_ , this attachment that they have. _Had._

He steps forward, moves closer. He sees Hux swallow, sees the light movement of his throat beneath his uniform. It’s exhilarating, to have such an effect with barely any effort. To still be able to do this. It stirs something in the pit of his stomach, makes him want _more._ Makes him want to pick Hux apart, to have him come undone in the palm of his hand; for no other reason than that he still can. That he still has the power to.

“You would let me, wouldn’t you?” Kylo says. “Do whatever I wanted.”

“What are yo—”

Kylo’s mouth twitches, almost a smirk. It’s a feeble attempt at protest, and they both know it. “Don’t play dumb, General,” he murmurs, watches as Hux shuts his mouth, as it settles to a thin line; annoyed.

With him or himself, Kylo can’t tell.

He moves closer still, steps forward until Hux is stepping back, until he has Hux pressed to the wall. They’re close, here. Only inches apart.

“Ren,” Hux says, tries to put a warning in it. It falls flat, comes out more breathless than Kylo knows he’d wanted it to. It makes him feel accomplished, powerful. _In charge._

He reaches a hand forward, up to Hux’s face. Two fingers ghost across Hux’s cheek; gloved, feather light, the leather barely touching. Kylo trails them over the bone, down the jaw. Moves to clutch his chin, tilt his head back. When he speaks, he says only one word: _“Beg.”_

It falls from his mouth like a command. Hux’s eyes flutter, his mouth parting as he breaths; deep, slow. Kylo can feel it, the hint of breath against his face. Warm, gentle. He waits, watches, wonders if Hux will give in. If he’ll succumb to his desire, the desire Kylo can feel so wholly, so desperately.

He remembers the first time this happened, the very first time, when they were younger than they are now, when there was, perhaps, something other than hatred that fuelled every touch. He remembers how long it’d taken to get Hux to beg, how much effort went into unravelling him. Like pulling teeth, he thinks. Like breaking the unbreakable. Like tearing down years’ worth of defences, barricades. He remembers how rewarding it had been to hear that very first _please._

He realises, now, that Hux had been worried; scared, almost, to let go. That the idea of opening the floodgates had been equal parts terrifying and appealing. But he’d broken so easily, Kylo recalls. Once they got there, after the first one—he’d broken so easily. Like he’d been searching for a reason to.

As he stares at him now, Kylo waits for the same thing to happen.

 _“Ren,”_ Hux says again, one last time. Kylo cuts him off with a shake of his head, with the press of a knee. He parts Hux’s legs with it, slips it in between, presses his lower thigh up, against the hardening erection. There is a sharp intake of breath at the sensation, Hux’s body tense beneath his.

“ _Beg.”_

There is a growl to Kylo’s voice, an order. Hux’s head drops forward, and Kylo watches, can feel it coming.

“Please,” Hux says. It’s a mumble and a whisper wrapped in one, barely audible even with their proximity. Kylo gets a fleeting urge to grin; smug, self-satisfied. He doesn’t, though, just rocks his thigh forward, whispers for Hux to say it again.

Hux does, again, and again, and again, over and over until his coat has been shoved from his shoulders, Kylo’s grip of him tight, bordering on painful. His want is palpable, the desperation obvious as Kylo rubs at him through his trousers.

“Look at you,” Kylo murmurs. “So desperate. I could make you come like this, couldn’t I? Like some sort of pathetic juvenile.”

There is a grunt, a groan. Kylo feels the fabric of his sleeve tighten as Hux’s fingers clench, the anger obvious. He reaches a hand between them, flicks open the zipper of Hux’s trousers, presses his palm against the hard cock, over the underwear.

“And you would let me,” he says. He dips forward, drags his lips across Hux’s jaw in what could pass as a kiss. Hux leans back ever so slightly, offers him better access.

“You think far too highly of yourself,” Hux tells him, the words catching on a gasp as Kylo bites down, sucks until the flesh of his neck is red raw.

“Is that,” Kylo says, licks a stripe up Hux’s neck, “any way to talk to a superior?”

He’s teasing, mocking. Hux’s hips buck forward, his eyes fluttering shut as the back of his head hits the wall.

“Bastard,” Hux spits, though it’s more breathless than it is malicious. More pitiful than it is cruel. “Is this what gets you off? A fabricated play of authority?” He grinds down against the pressure of Kylo’s hand, doesn’t bother to reach forward, to give Kylo any sort of friction. “Do you want me to act the slutty subordinate?” he asks, quiet. “Let you have your wicked way with me?”

“Hardly acting,” Kylo retorts, leans forward, captures Hux’s mouth in a harsh kiss. It’s teeth and tongue, biting and blood. He drags his finger over the outline of Hux’s cock, up the underside, presses down on where a damp spot has started to form. Hux shivers, shudders beneath him, and Kylo doubles his efforts. “I’m sure you know all about playing the slutty subordinate.”

He adds emphasis to the last bit, the implication clear. Hux glares. Tries to, at least. It fails in favour of pleasure, his need for release growing with every second. Kylo removes his hand, replaces it with his thigh, makes Hux do the work himself. He watches him grind down, seek friction. Listens to every needy sound that comes from his mouth.

 _“Please_ , _”_ he grits out eventually; frustrated, resigned. His breath is heavy, his loud pants filling the space between them. Kylo takes pity on him, or at least something like it. He gives Hux what he wants. Helps him reach completion.

Hux comes with a sweet, stuttered breath, his mouth open in a silent cry. Kylo watches his eyes shut, watches his body shake with rapture, his pleasure etched in every line of his face. He looks down, smirks. Hux had come in his pants, his trousers damp, spoiled. Kylo doesn’t bother hiding the sincere satisfaction that comes with that fact; the knowledge that he can still make Hux come apart like this.

“You might,” he whispers, mirth audible in the low tone of his voice, “want to clean that up. General.”

Hands push at his shoulders, not quite strong enough to send him stumbling, but Kylo goes anyway. He steps back, watches Hux collect himself, feels the internal conflict. Nothing is said as Hux pulls his coat from the ground, drapes it across his shoulders, and Kylo is far from surprised when he turns on his heel and walks away without muttering so much as a goodbye.

As he settles back behind his desk, his hands reaching to take care of his own arousal, Kylo supposes that it’s understandable. It is, after all, what the two of them do to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/irnstrk) / [tumblr](http://humanveil.tumblr.com/)


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